100 Doors
by veeeron
Summary: He opened his eyes and slowly sat upward.  The vision was not at all what he had expected: he sat on the black asphalt of the playground near his old home at Spinner's End.
1. Nonentity

100 DOORS

1. TIMOROUS

His vision faded away, and he fell into the deepest depths of his mind, seeing flashes of emerald green, hearing the voices of death, and his stomach twisting and turning, not sure when he was to hit the ground.

Hitting the ground was not what he had expected, for he did not hit the ground with force, he rather crumpled on the concrete delicately. If the purpose of this was to save him from injury, then it was useless, he thought; he was already dead.

He opened his eyes and slowly sat upward. The vision was not at all what he had expected: he sat on the black asphalt of the playground near his old home at Spinner's End. It was deserted, yet the breeze was still softly rustling the delightfully green trees and moving the swings. The air was warm, like a summer day. The houses that lined the street across from the playground looked exactly as they had when he was a child.

He wondered what the reason for this was. If it was to torture him, then it was no use; he had already endured enough torture in life, why should he be tortured after death, too?

He stood up slowly, walking toward the swings creaking in the summer breeze. He felt silly as he sat down on the swing he had taken up daily on the summer days in his childhood. He looked around once more, taking in the scene that hadn't changed since he was eleven.

Then he noticed a man sitting on the playground bench. He squinted. This was no ordinary man, no… Was it…? Albus Dumbledore? No ordinary person wore robes of deep blue, nor did they have a foot-long white beard.

He stood up and made his way toward the man. He cleared his throat.

"Albus…?" he said softly.

The man turned and stared at him. It was indeed Albus Dumbledore. His eyes widened, he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Ah, Severus. I was wondering when you would arrive," Dumbledore said in a content voice, blue eyes twinkling as always. He smiled a crooked smile.

"I… but why are you here? And why- why am I here?" he stuttered. He looked around again frantically.

"Come, come with me, Severus. I believe we can figure this out together."

Severus Snape closely followed Dumbledore down the street, feeling like he would somehow lose sight of him and be left all alone. If he had not been a grown man, he would've clung to Dumbledore's arm like a small child.

Snape recognized this path. He knew these streets; he knew them well. He didn't want to keep walking. He stopped in the middle of the street.

"Severus?" Dumbledore said, realizing he had stopped walking.

"I'm sorry, Albus, I just can't walk here. Wherever we're going… I don't want to go. I… I just don't," he said, his voice wavering.

"I know, Severus, I know. Now come along," Dumbledore said calmly. He reached out for Snape's hand.

Snape shook his head and kept walking. He didn't want consolation. If he had been alone, he would have burst into deep sobs, but he couldn't.

Snape followed Dumbledore to his old home at Spinner's End, the place he no longer wanted anything to do with. It was the place that held so many bad memories from not only his childhood but his adult life, as well.

He stood at the door, resisting going in. Besides, he didn't have a key, and it was probably locked. He had placed anti-_Alohomora_ charms on the door.

Dumbledore, seeming to read his mind, pulled a small key out of his robe pocket, just like Snape's old house key that he'd kept in a jar in his quarters at Hogwarts. Dumbledore handed Snape the key, urging him to put it in the lock. Snape unwillingly pushed in the tiny key, a familiar feeling in his hands. He turned the key halfway to the left, then to the right, remembering the stubborn lock. The door finally opened, and Dumbledore urged him in.


	2. Contemporaneous

2. CONTEMPORANEOUS

The house looked different than he had left it the last time he had been home. If anything, it looked similar to how it had looked when he was young, before he had left to teach at Hogwarts. His mother's old knit blanket was draped over the back of the sofa and her old china was still in the cabinet that he had gotten rid of five years ago. A cracked picture frame with a family portrait inside stood on the mantle. He remembered cracking it, and he had never bothered to repair it.

He ventured over to the mantle and took the portrait in his hands, a Muggle photograph. He ran his fingers over the cracks that could've easily been repaired with magic. He looked at the portrait. His father, tall and overarching, stood on the left holding a young of about three. His mother stood on the other side with her arms around the both of them, a good six inches shorter than his father. It was a truly happy moment, the only one Snape could remember.

Dumbledore stood by the open door. He closed it quietly and Snape turned around. Snape was fighting back a dull lump in the back of his throat.

"This… this isn't how I left my house," he alleged, trying to sound as daunting as possible. They were the only words he could say.

Dumbledore stood silent for a second. Snape could tell he was carefully choosing his words as not to offend him.

"I… I am not sure if this is present time," Dumbledore murmured.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked with slight horror on his face. He looked at Dumbledore quizzically. Dumbledore's blue eyes had lost their twinkle, and he looked sorrowful as well.

Snape noticed an envelope lying on the very edge of the table. His hands shook. Surely this would give him his answer, but he was not sure he wanted to know.

He slowly walked to the edge of the table and took the envelope in his hands. His hands were shaking ferociously now, as he turned over the letter to open it. He didn't bother to read the name on the envelope. If it had been important, he would've remembered it.

He reluctantly took the letter out of the envelope and opened it. He couldn't bring himself to read it, though.

He handed the letter to Dumbledore, who stood at the other end of the table with an undecipherable look on his face. He looked pensive as he tipped his half-moon spectacles to the tip of his nose and took the letter.

"I don't want to know," Snape whispered.

Dumbledore peered at him over his spectacles.

"All right, read it," Snape said, holding his head in his hands. His stomach churned and he felt the sensation of his heart beating fast, albeit he was dead.

Snape watched Dumbledore's eyes scan the letter. He opened his mouth, and Snape's heartbeat sped.

"November 11th, 1981," Dumbledore whispered.


	3. Penance

**Hey everyone, thought it was time for a disclaimer and author's note in this chapter, seeing as I forgot them in the others. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters or related ideas, they all belong to J.K. Rowling, though it would be pretty freaking awesome.**

3. PENANCE

Thoughts whizzed through Snape's mind. Horrible thoughts, thoughts that he never had wanted to think again.

November 11th, 1981…

"November 11th, 1981," he whispered aloud. A lump in the back of his throat formed and his eyes stung. "Why?"

"Severus," Dumbledore said as if to offer consolation.

"No, this cannot… This cannot happen again… I'm dead, for God's sake!" Snape wailed. "Why, why this time? I just want to be… I just want to be dead…" he sobbed, although Dumbledore was in the room to watch.

"Severus, please, there's ought to be a reason we're-"

"Why did _death,_ who was supposed to _relieve_ me from my pain, take my back to the _darkest time of my life?_" Snape roared, causing Dumbledore to back down.

Snape sank onto his knees, his head in his hands. There just _had_ to be a reason, unless his death was supposed to be torturous as well. But hadn't he suffered enough during his life? His brain whirred, nearly audible. Was he to live the darkest days of his life for eternity? Why the days after _she_ had been killed? How torturous those days had been for him the first time, long, grief-filled days. He remembered all sorts of things from those days, those months, things he did not want to remember.

Snape simply knelt there at the table moaning and weeping, letting go of all the grief of his life. Dumbledore still stood at the other end of the table.

"I have a theory," he said quietly.

Snape looked up, eyes bloodshot.

"What _theory?_ The theory that I'm doomed to relive my horrible, decrepit life for the rest of eternity?" Snape roared. "As punishment for the things I've done, the people I've killed, the ones I've betrayed?"

"Severus…"

"What? There's _nothing_ left to say, Albus. I deserve this…" Snape trailed off, breaking down to his knees again.

"Severus Snape, listen to me right now," Dumbledore said sternly. "Contrary to what you believe, you do not deserve to relive such a thing. Why would a brave, honest man be subjected to such punishment?"

"I was never honest…" Snape whispered. "I lied, I lied all my life-"

"For your own good and the good of our forces," Dumbledore finished firmly. "Now if you would listen to me, I think I might know why we are here. We are not here for no reason. We haven't de-aged, haven't changed-"

"We? _We?_ I want to know why _I_ am here. I don't care why _you_ are here. I want to know why my present self has been taken back to the darkest time of my life when I should be dead. _Dead as a doornail,"_ Snape hissed.

"I think you should know why I am here-"

"You've done enough for me already!" Snape shouted. Dumbledore backed away, and Snape saw a flicker of something in his eyes, although he wasn't sure what. Dumbledore stood for a moment, staring into Snape's eyes, waiting.

Snape wiped his eyes on his sleeve; aware Dumbledore was watching him. His tears left wet marks on his clothes and he thought he should probably be using a handkerchief, but what did he care if he was dead?

His heart ached, longed, for it all to end. All his life he had wanted to die, wanted to crawl into a hole and be no more. But here he was, in the death he had longed for all his life, still _being._ He didn't want to _be _anymore. He wanted to completely disappear into nothing, into nonexistence.

"Open that door," Dumbledore spoke.

Snape looked at the door Dumbledore spoke of, the one next to his mother's China cabinet that led to the upstairs of the house. He wondered why Dumbledore had ordered him to open the door; it only led to the two tiny upstairs bedrooms.

Snape opened the door.

Instead of a staircase, he found an endlessly long hallway possessing numerous doors along each side; all of them open.

**Author's Note: So finally the title of "100 Doors" comes into play, and next chapter Dumbledore's theory will be revealed. Thank to excessivelyperky for your reviews and your perspective so far on this story, both Snape and Dumbledore will learn some things along the course of this story, even though I'm not really sure how it will end yet… Anyways keep reading and reviewing, everyone, you know you want to click that little "Add Story To Favorites" button down at the bottom… Suggestions and perspective are welcome and encouraged! I hope to have the next chapter up within a few days; it should definitely be up by Friday. **


	4. Evoke

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling nor do I own anything Harry Potter-related in this story.**

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for all your reviews, especially Risi and DiedLaughing. They're really helping me get a sense of what's going good and what's not working so far in this story. As for the significance of the date, it will be revealed in this chapter. Just to clear up the time period issue, Snape and Dumbledore have not been taken back to relive their lives, they've just been taken back to the world as it was during the darkest times in Snape's life, when all he really wants to do is just die. Keep reading and reviewing! Thank youuu! **

4. EVOKE

Snape stared, wide-eyed, down the hallway of doors that seemed to have no end. Dumbledore came to stand beside him, contently looking down the hallway in his all-knowing manner. There was even a slight smile on his face.

Snape blinked, but the doors were still there instead of the staircase to the upstairs bedrooms. His eyebrows furrowed.

"What in the name of… Where is the rest of my house?" Snape exclaimed.

"Just as I assumed…" Dumbledore thought aloud. But of course he meant for Snape to hear it.

"Albus, what in the name of Merlin are you talking about?" Snape said.

"Walk down the hallway, Severus."

Snape's denial and disbelief turned into anger. "What kind of games are you playing with me, Albus? Haven't I already suffered enough? Haven't you already _helped_ me enough in life? Why, _why_ should I relive one of the _darkest_ days of my life for the rest of eternity? Do you know what day this is? DO YOU?" Snape bellowed angrily. His fists were white and shaking, tightly clenched.

Dumbledore, however, did not seem taken aback. He seemed satisfied, rather. "What day is this? Is it a date I should remember?" he asked sympathetically, yet quizzically.

Snape's pale face turned white and his eyes dangerously dark. "This is the day… of Lily Evans's funeral." He choked on the last word.

It was painful to say it, and the thoughts that went with it were even worse. He remembered the funeral clear as day; one of the worst days of his life. The more he wanted to forget it, the clearer his memories became. He remembered being the last person to pay his respects at the open tomb in the empty room after everyone had gone into the church. He'd looked at Lily, his Lily. He remembered the constriction of his throat as he gazed over her face.

Her freckled, alabaster skin was as white and as perfect as snow. He brushed his finger against the tip of her nose as he'd always used to do in a joking manner when they were young, then stroked her soft, deep red hair. He didn't want to think that she was dead, that her delicate white hands would never reach to brush back that long hair anymore, that her deep emerald eyes would never gaze his way again, that she would never again speak to him in her voice that had just always had that soothing tone.

Oh, how he had wanted her to open her eyes, how hard he had wished that she would just sit up in a dazed manner, asking Severus why and where she was, blinking her large green eyes. He remembered the tear that had crept down his cheek as he'd imagined this. He'd watched the tear drop into the coffin, landing in a soft bed of red hair. He'd let it be, a shimmering drop, a reminder of himself that would always be with her.

"Ahem," he'd heard a cough. The undertaker was standing by the door. "It's time for the service to start," he'd said delicately. He'd looked from Snape's watering eyes to his hand upon Lily's. He'd ventured closer.

"I…" Snape couldn't finish, let alone find words to make a sentence.

"Loved her?" the undertaker had said understandingly. Snape remembered feeling comforted by his words, that he had finally let someone know how much she had meant to him, that someone else knew that look.

Snape had nodded with a choke.

The undertaker looked over Lily once more and motioned to close the casket. "It seems fitting," he had said.

Snape gazed at Lily all that he could as he slowly closed the lid. Tears silently streamed down his face, and he took a deep, heaving breath when he had finally closed the casket. The undertaker had given him one last look, then nodded for him to go into the church.

"I'm sorry," he'd said as Snape had made his way to the door. Snape nodded cordially, choking on another breath.

He remembered slinking into the very back pew of the church, staring at the famed picture of Lily and James on the cover of the tiny ceremony booklet. He knew he still had that booklet somewhere, splattered with teardrops so that the ink ran. Lily's beautiful face was a slew of grays, yet she still danced with James through the frame, seeming to tease him. He remembered how loud the priest seemed to speak, how his voice became louder with every word he uttered; pure torture.

At the graveyard in Godric's Hollow, he remembered standing at the edge of the crowd gathered around the grave to watch the entombment. He just stood. He listened to people speak, every word a blur to his ears. He didn't see anything through the heavy crowd. After the crowd had gone, before the undertaker filled the grave, he stood at the edge of the hole, looking into the tomb. And that was the moment he knew that he could never love another woman like that again, that she was his first, last, and only.

** Ok, so this chapter didn't really advance the plot, but I felt like I had to write it. Hope you guys found it as great and devastating to read as it was to write. Sorry it took so long to write the chapter, I didn't really know where to go with it so I wrote that. This next update might take a week or so because I haven't completely figured out the plot yet. Below is a link to a drawing I'm working on of what Snape sees in the Mirror of Erised, and although it's not a scene in the book, it will work it's way into this story:**

**.com/pages/showimage/929217 **

**Keep reading and reviewing! Thanks! **


	5. Bequeathing

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling nor do I own anything Harry Potter-related in this story.**

**Author's Note: Well… yeah, sorry, it's been awhile. And this is short but chapter 6 will come soon. **

5. BEQUEATHING

He stood at the edge of the doorway next to Dumbledore, head in his hands. He could deal with a torturous life, but a torturous afterlife, as well?

Dumbledore looked down the hallway.

"Severus," he said.

"I want to die," Snape said, his voice muffled by his hands. "I want to die."

Dumbledore looked through his half-moon spectacles at the man collapsed on the floor, his cape a swirl of black around him. He seemed to be drowning in it, a sea of blackest black.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore extended his hand. "Let me help you."

"I don't want your bloody help," he shook his head. His voice wavered.

"Severus," Dumbledore said harshly. Snape looked Dumbledore dangerously in the eyes, trying to mask the true fear he felt.

Snape finally stood. He was slightly trembling, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't detect it. But he knew nothing got past Dumbledore.

"You dug this hole for yourself. Through that door," Dumbledore pointed, "is the way out."

Snape looked through the door and down the hallway. Dumbledore urged him through.

"This is where I leave you," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. He started to close the door with a smile. "You will know what to do; you always do."

Snape had a pleading look in his eyes as he watched the door close.

"Oh, and Severus?" Dumbledore paused, only his eye visible through the crack between the door and the frame. "This is perhaps the only time that I will say that revenge is necessary."

His blue eye twinkled as he softly shut the door.


End file.
